Ours Is the Fury, Hear Me Roar!
by Reservoir-Dawwgs
Summary: Mary Baratheon is the true daughter of Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister. When they travel to Winterfell, Mary realizes how much she loves winter, and even more so how much she loves the people. (Pairing unknown now, Rated M for sexual themes, language and violence in later chapters. Also the ages of characters are a mix of the books and the show.) Please review!
1. A Most Worthwhile Journey

Mary laid on her bed, the sun peering through the white curtains of her room, hitting her half naked figure, the sweat making her skin glisten. Her eyes were fixed on an old leather bound book her uncle Tyrion had given her to help her with their private literary lessons. She was waiting for her family to finish in their preparation to travel to Winterfell, which she was excited for. She had always wanted to go to the land of ice and snow, her father told her many stories of it. She heard a knock on her door soon, and upon hearing it was her hand maiden, allowed the woman to enter without putting a robe over herself.

"Lady Mary, you're family is waiting for you," The woman told her. Scoffing when she saw Mary in her garments, helping her into a beautifully made, regal looking maroon dress with a golden waist belt. Mary smiled at her handmaiden and hugged her gently, before flying down the stairs, her book tucked securely under her arm as the servants of the castle loaded their luggage into the beautiful carriage which was filled with her family. Mary had always coveted them for their emerald eyes, golden hair and sun kissed skin. They looked like gold coin in a treasure chest right then.

Robert often told his daughter that with the auburn red twang in her hair, she shone like a ruby in the midst of golden treasure, making her more rare, and more beautiful than the rest. It was clear he favored her over all the rest of his children. She physically took after him, unlike the rest of them, she was more pale, with dark hair and broader brows. She was thicker built, with more curves than the rest of her dainty sisters, but still lean, and far more beautiful than them in some sense.

She was 13 name days old, with her breasts already having swelled on her chest, having her blood just a year previous. Robert planned very much on having her wed to his friend Eddard Starks's eldest son, Robb. They would make a fine match, their children would be beautiful with auburn hair that would shine like fire, but Cersei loved her daughter very much and did not want her to leave Kings Landing. She was much stronger than her daughter's born of Jaime. She held the Lannister's roar and the Baratheon's fury in her veins, but the kindness of any person in all of Westeros, and she did not want her daughter to marry some common Lord's son. She wanted her daughter to marry a king. She would fight for that girl till the end of her life, with her teeth clenched and her sword ready.

Mary entered the carriage happily, her Uncle Jaime pulling her onto his lap with that sparkling smile of his spread across his lips. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before releasing her as she squirmed away, jokingly disgusted by his affections. She took her seat between her two uncle's known as The Imp and The Kingslayer, which Mary had no knowledge of. She presented to the little lion, the book which he had given to her. He gave a small round of applause, and began to read from it. He, sometimes interjecting to correct her pronunciation, but overall beaming at the fact that she loved the story he gave her.

As she read, her sister Myrcella braided Mary's shoulder length hair, commenting often on how soft it was. Joffrey pretended to be bored with her story, scoffing and looking out the window, his chin resting in his hand, though he listened to her words intently, hoping no one would see how much he loved it. Even Uncle Jaime seemed entrapped in this wonderful novel, which surprised her the most. But over all of this, she could hear her mother and father bantering to each other.

"I'm not sending my daughter to that freezing wasteland." Cersei said firmly through a hushed voice. Robert rolled his eyes with a scoff and began to look red in the face. "I mean it, Robert. Marry Sansa and Joffrey to one another, bring the Stark girl to Castamere." She grit her teeth.

"_You_ do not tell _me_ what to do," He raised his voice above hers, though still quiet, but she still did not shy away. "If I wish to marry my daughter away, I will do so. Joffrey and Ned's daughter, Sansa are still _very_ young." He continued on, Mary's hazel eyes flickering up at them for a moment, before turning one of the old pages.

"Mary is young too, younger than Joffrey." Cersei pointed out, her voice practically a hiss as she leaned forward.

"She's had her blood. Women marry younger than her, and have their husbands seed in them soon after." He said seething, their conversation slowly heating up. Cersei crossed her arms and looked straight into his dull eyes. He groaned and placed a hand on his face, rubbing his eyes. "We'll discuss this later. If Mary wants to be wed to Robb, it will be done. But if she does not, you may wed Joffrey and Sansa." He told her, and though she was not completely satisfied, it made her happier than before.

They both ignored one another for the remainder of the ride to Winterfell, focusing on Mary's story instead. But when the Little Fawn, as they called her, fell asleep, everyone was forced into silence, and they realized that she's what held them all together as a family. Her head rested on Tyrion's arm, but if the carriage waved around too much, sometimes her head would move to Jaime's and he would secure her there with a strong hand.

Their travels were long. It took a month for them to travel and they only took a few stops along the way. Mary was waking up as they stopped at the front of the gate, the carriage too big to fit through. Jaime helped Mary out after her father, who was already pulling Ned in for a hug as her feet hit the hard, frozen ground. Immediately she was shivering, but the white ground made her smile. It was just like the books and her father had described. One of her hand maiden's placed a white fur cloak over her shoulders, and she thanked the old woman gently, securing it tightly around herself.

"Stand straight darling," Her mother said, pushing her daughters shoulders back. Mary did as told, releasing her iron grip on the light brown cloak. "Remember to smile and lift your chin." Her mother continued to correct Mary's posture until Mary looked absolutely perfect. Myrcella had done a marvelous job of styling her elder sisters hair, and she looked like a stunning young woman. "Robb would be a fool not to fight for you, and you would be a fool to take him." She finally whispered to her daughter, who let her full lips spread into a smile, as her mother gave her a light kiss on the forehead.

Her mother then left her to greet Ned and Catelyn, Robert hugging Catelyn in his big arms like she'd never seen him do so to her mother. It made her quite sad to see the familiarity that the Stark's held to her father, and the simple formality to her mother. She soon realized, as the youngest Stark girl did too, that her Uncle Tyrion was gone, which was curious to her. She looked down until her father called his children over to be introduced. They met the Stark's briefly, but Mary was too cold to say much, so she kept it simple, than stepped back and shivered under the arm of her father, who held her close to his large belly.

"Mama, can we go refresh ourselves?" Mary asked quietly to the woman by her. "I'm freezing." She whined a little, and Cersei nodded, speaking out to Robert who was saying he would pay his respects to the Stark's dead. After a short moment of banter between the two, Uncle Jaime took her arm in his and she quieted herself. They were though, allowed to go to their chambers, as Robert and Eddard alone went down to the crypt.

One of Sansa's handmaiden's had taken Mary's arm and assisted her to a guest chamber, where she would slumber. Mary thanked the woman meekly, taking her own handmaiden into the room with her, and ordering for a warmer cloth to robe her. The woman did as ordered. Mary had never had to wear thicker kind of dress. It felt soft but heavy on her. The sleeves were long and dragged on the floor like the dress itself. It was a deep shade of blue, like the sky when midnight was about to arrive, with a silver waist belt which she liked very much. She felt like winter.

Mary soon decided to join the boys when she was told they were playing swords. She sat amongst the Lannister men to see the last of Tommen and Bran's fight, Bran winning over her smaller brother who's loss was inevitable seeing as he'd hardly ever held a sword before. She applauded the Stark boy curtly and smiled. Her eyes glanced up and stole a look from the bastard boy Jon, who's steely gaze was upon her already. She looked away at the mention of her brother Joffrey's name.

They had wanted Robb and Joffrey to duel next, to which Robb happily agreed to, his hair looked like fire under the sunlight. Just like hers. She stared at him, and his eyes found hers soon. She smiled at him and waved her hand at him. He grinned back and returned the wave. She couldn't tear her gaze away from his eyes. They looked like the ocean under her father's castle, the morning sky she woke to with small birds chirping in the wind, like the fresh blueberries she used to pick with her Uncle Stannis, whom she hadn't seen for years. They made her feel a warmth in the pit of her stomach.

Their stares were interrupted when Joffrey began his big talk, saying that this was a child's game. Mary felt herself sink where she sat. She knew Joffrey was not a fighter. He was someone who had men fight _for_ him. She pitied the Stark's wounded pride as Sandor Clegane began to jab at them with his story of how he had killed a man at age 12, which she had heard many times. The Lannister men laughed and jeered at the darker haired men, and walked off with Joffrey leading them away.

Mary remained, her hazel gaze directed towards her hands, which had never looked so white. The Stark men were all quiet, drinking in what had just happened and soon, the lot of them began to talk amongst each other, angry words directed towards her elder brother. She could feel their stares on her and it made her tense up. She began to walk towards them, thinking of words to say in apology for her brother, but she was so humiliated that when she reached Robb she could only smile at him.

"Hello Princess," He said with almost a hint of disdain, which wasn't a complete surprise. "Don't tell me you're here to brag, Lady Mary."

"Robb, I'm sorry about my brother," She managed to say. He looked up at her with a slight smile. "He can be a real shit sometimes, and I know that." She laughed. The use of her language made Robb release a hearty guffaw in surprise, the other men who had heard her, laughing as well.

"It's quite alright," Robb dismissed the apology. "It wasn't your fault." He told her, looking down at his dirtied boots, feeling slightly humiliated by his assumption of her actions.

"Lady Mary," A new man approached her, a cocky grin stuck to his face, as he bent down and kissed the knuckle of her hand which he had snatched up in his. "It's an honor to meet you." He told her, standing up straight now. He was taller than her, and only a little shorter than Robb. He had an odd face with light hair and light eyes.

"And to you as well," She curtsied to be polite. "May I ask for your name, good sir?" She inquired the slightest hint of a mock in her tone, that only Jon caught.

"Theon Greyjoy, at your service." He bowed his head proudly. Mary nodded her head knowingly. He was the capture turned friend, and even trusted with the position of begin the king's ward. Mary found the Stark's weak for this, but also rather smart peaceful people. She both admired and worried for them with a Greyjoy in their boundaries. She smiled at him and Robb and Theon both battled for attention from the pretty princess. They talked for a very long while about trivial things before Jon soon interjected.

"Robb, you should start preparing for the feast tonight. Arya just told me Catelyn has been asking for her children." Jon informed his half brother who gave the Bastard a thank you and a slap on the shoulder. Theon followed after him, shooting Mary one last smile before leaving. "Do you need assistance returning to the castle?" The raven haired boy asked Mary, who accepted his offer and took his extended arm.

"I've never met a bastard before," She told Jon soon after they began to walk. She could tell he was touchy on the subject because his grip on her tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough that a little more pressure was applied to her muscle. "That I know of." She added, jokingly, trying to lighten the conversation. He looked at her a moment and let himself smile, but she could tell it was only a courteous smile. "I'm sorry if I offended you, that wasn't my intention." She said, feeling bad that she may have upset him.

"All's forgiven." He waved it away nervously. "I've never met a little fawn before." He said and she laughed. She loved her nickname. Little Fawn made her feel special because every other child at home was a lion or lioness. At first the nickname was unwanted, but when she realized it was an endearing term of her Baratheon looks, she grew to love it. Especially because it stuck with every uncle, even uncle Stannis, whom she'd rarely spoken to and her favorite grandfather, Tywin. She'd never met Robert's father. Steffon Baratheon was his name, but she heard he was killed in an ocean ship wreck, though Robert never spoke much of it.

They approached the castle ground's and moved away from one another, breaking their contact. Jon bowed to her and she curtsied.

"I hope to see you again, my lady." He said to her before turning on his heels and leaving. She watched him walk off, his loose black curls bouncing a little as he strode off. Mary liked the way it looked, like a black ocean. She soon though, turned away entering her chamber's to change again into her clothes for the feast. She would surely be seated by the Stark children or her siblings, her being taken under Robb's arm as an entrance, but she wanted to see her Uncle Tyrion, she hadn't for some time, and his loud mouth worried her often times. She wanted to see her Uncle Jaime too, he was too handsome for his own good, the women here would surely try to take him from her. Even though he promised her many times that she, and her mother, were the only women he needed in his life, his charm often worried her. She felt like one day that promise would be broken.

Her dress was embroidered finely with small flowers from the straps to the end of the long skirt. Her handmaiden did her hair up fashionably, to Mary's excitement. She loved being dressed up prettily, especially by her handmaiden who always did a fine job. By the time the finished, her mother came in panicking, telling Mary to hurry, otherwise she'd miss her entrance.

Ned took her mother in his arm, and Catelyn took her father's and they walked together to their previously assigned seats at the head of the dining table. Soon followed the youngest children, working their way up to the eldest. Robb and Mary walked in as the last of the children, and Mary had to look into her father's smiling eyes to avoid the stare's of the strangers surrounding her. They walked with their heads up. Robb was smiling to the people widely, more so happy to have a pretty girl in his arm, and Mary feeling ready to vomit her empty stomach out from nervousness. She reached the children's end of the table and sat between Joffrey and Robb. Joffrey paid no mind to his younger sister, and focused on looking bored, as usual, talking to his servant men.

She ate her food, little bite by little bite, like mother told her to do. Robb passed a goblet of wine and poured it into her glass cup. The purple winter drink stung her nose when he poured it. She could tell it was going to be bitter, but with his eyes on her, she didn't want to be rude and Lannister's always take what they are offered. She took a small sip with her pouted lips. The wine in Winterfell was bitter and sour, like vinegar with a small splash of a wild berry in it. It was strong and made her eyes sting so much that she scrunched her face up and coughed. Robb laughed at this, taking her cup and dumping it out.

"We should have known you'd be a spitter," Theon teased over Robb's shoulder. Robb shot him a glare, but Mary was too naive to understand the joke. Theon poured her a glass of the wine her father had brought as a gift. She sipped on the small cup and felt a wave of relief hit her as the sweet oaky flavor of summerwine filled her mouth. She sighed into the cup and set it down with a smile as she bit into her food.

"You women and your summerwine." Robb nudged her lightly, shaking his head, drinking the one glass of wine allowed down, before returning to look at her with a wide smile, the winter wine staining his lips, making them look very pretty and swollen. She teased him about it, saying it was the perfect shade for him, to which he rolled his eyes and laughed.

Mary's eyes looked up to her father, and her smile fell. He had a large cup of wine in one hand, and a whore in his other. The sight made Mary sick. She loved her father, more than almost anyone, but she hated when he did this. When he drank he hit, and fucked, and swore and it frightened Mary. She saw her mother looking at them, a scowl on her thin, pretty lips. Her brilliant green eyes glanced into Mary's who offered a small comforting smile, and Cersei smiled back sadly.

Robb put a hand to her arm, which snapped Mary away from her mother's gaze. He gave her a lopsided grin, knowing what she was seeing, not fully understanding her feelings though. He offered some comforting words and she nodded curtly to him, knowing he was being supportive, but feeling like she was going to cry she left him, walking out the doors, wiping her nose.

When she left the hall, the cold air nipped at her cheeks, and froze her tears in her eyes, to her relief. Lannister's never cry. But soon she saw her Uncle walking past her, Jon staring after him.

"Oh hello there, my lovely niece," He smiled up at her. She bent down and gave him a big hug. She bit on her lip to stop herself from crying. Her mother told her crying was a weakness, Jaime too, so she never cried. She'd gotten close to it, but she had restrained from tears since the age five. At least not in front of anyone. Tyrion held her, surprised. "Little Fawn, are you alright?" He asked concerned, giving her a kiss on her head, before she shuttered into his arms more.

"Tyrion, I just wish my father would be loyal," She whimpered, sealing her eyes shut so the tears wouldn't get through. "I wish mama loved him and I wished he loved her." She sunk, her head on his chest now. He lifted her up more, cupping her face in his hands.

"Mary," He sighed, not looking into her eyes. "Just know that you are loved. Whether they love each other or not is irrelevant, married couples never love each other for long. But they always love their children." He said to her, which soothed her. He stroked her hair until she released him. "Unless you're an imp like me." He joked, but no one laughed, knowing it was true.

"Thank you, Uncle," She kissed his cheek. "I love you." She let his grasp go and he smiled after her before returning to the dining hall for more wine.

She approached Jon who was unsure of how to respond to what he had just witnessed. His dire wolf sat under his hand as he stroked it, while he avoided her eyes. She could tell he was uncomfortable, but she sat on the ledge, so she was just barely taller than him.

"I like your wolf," She told him. Even though the beast scared her, she thought it was very beautiful. Jon cracked a smile, and pet the dog more feverishly. "What's his name?" She asked.

"Ghost," He replied with a proud face, staring down at his hound. "He's white as snow and quieter than the wind." He said more to himself than her, in a hushed and reverent kind of voice.

"He's beautiful." She said, quietly and he nodded in response, leaving them in a short moment of silence. Jon saw how much she needed a comforting hand, one he didn't know how to offer himself. He looked down at his beast, and a thought was planted in his head.

"Ghost," He called for the wolf. "Snuggle." Jon said through a smile. Ghost hopped up by Mary, startling her until he laid his head down on her lap. She giggled and pet the dog, it's warmth making her forget about the practical blizzard snowing behind her and about her father's infidelity. She grew to like the bastard very much. He was kind, and ambitious and wise for his age. She may even have liked him more than his silent beast who continued to press it's nose into the palms of her hands.

Robb soon came out, he was about to venture out to look around for Mary, who seemed very upset when she had left . But when he came through the doors, his eyes fell upon them. Seeing the two together, so close and talking intently made his blood boil up a little, but he kept a cool head as he approached them with a smile.

"Lady Mary," He said, hopping up to sit by her. "Are you alright? I figured I would give you some time to yourself before I came out to find you." He said, his eyes flickering to Jon's with a small hint of jealousy.

"Thank you, Robb, but I'm fine now." She turned her body to him now, her back to Jon and Ghost. "Do you wish me back in the dining hall?" She asked, taking his hand and hopping down, forcing him to stumble off the ledge and land on his feet next to her, their hands still held together.

"Very much, dear lady, your presence was missed by all while you're away for that short time." He beamed at her, then turning to see Jon, his grey eyes glued to the floor. Her hand trailed up to his arm so she could hold it. "Unless you have a prior engagement." He said to Mary now, and she just shook her head.

"No no, Jon and I were finished up." She smiled at the bastard who offered a weak grin in return. She felt a little pang of guilt in her stomach when he looked like that, calling Ghost so they could leave. She released Robb and ran up to the boy, Jon. She curtsied to him and gave him tender kiss on his cheekbone. He looked surprised. "Thank you for your comfort Jon, it will not soon be forgotten." She bounced off towards Robb and took his arm again before reentering the dining hall.

Cersei found her gaze on her daughter, who was coming back into the kingdom's dining hall in the arm of the eldest Stark with a friendly smile on her soft face. She felt her heart sink into her belly, and she took a glass of wine in her hand as they laughed with each other, feeling herself get a bit angry when the Greyjoy boy, began to tickle her a little. She turned to Robert who saw none of it, but her fury was interrupted by the orange haired Stark, Sansa, and a fake smile spread on Cersei's thin lips, as she talked to the girl.

* * *

It was Mary's last day in the land of blizzards and she was spending her last few hours with Robb and Theon, seeing as Jon was preparing for his travel to the wall with her Uncle Tyrion and his Uncle Benjen. Robb was not in the best of mood's, with Bran almost dying, she could see it was effecting him greatly. Robb hadn't talked much, but was lost in thought with a stone cold face. Theon was kept busy entertaining Mary still, joking and playing small games with her.

"No, Mary," Theon would say, fixing her hands. "You clap one hand on my opposite, then the other, then we clap _both_ our palms together and then we clap the back of our hands together, and repeat." He explained, and Mary gave a loud laugh, doing it incorrectly again, mostly just to annoy him. "You know what?" Theon finally cried, giving her stomach a nice tickle with his hands. Her laugh broke through Robb's preoccupied mind, and he began to smile at them, as they fell to the floor.

"Theon, stop!" She said through her laughs in a gasp, but Theon never even paused. He went on for a few more moments, before climbing on top of her. "Robb help me!' She pleaded, and Robb walked over but Theon put his hand up to Robb.

"Say uncle," He ordered Mary, his threatening fingers hovering over her stomach and she began to panic. She shook her head though, the Baratheon blood in her veins too prideful to do so. Theon tickled her again, and she laughed so hard she ached. "Say uncle!" He said again, his smile never fading. She looked up to see Jaime passing by the room they were in.

"Uncle!" She shrieked like she was being attacked and it startled everyone around them. Soon her Uncle Jaime burst through the room, his eyes wide in search for his niece's voice from whom he'd heard a panicked cry. He then saw Theon on top of Mary, his face struck with horror, seeing that the Kingslayer was grabbing the hilt of his blade. Jaime looked like a true Lion, fierce and angry. He approached Theon and grabbed the collar of the boys shirt. "Uncle, let him down!" Mary said through a laugh on the floor, and Robb too found himself laughing at the frightened boy in Jaime Lannister's grasp. Jaime gave Mary a confused look, as she dusted her skirt off. "I was trying to get him to stop tickling me." Jaime paused, then nodded understandingly, putting the boy down with a nervous laugh, and Theon looked actually a little shaken.

"My apologies," Jaime bowed to them all. Theon bowed back, and Robb nodded his head. Jaime turned to his niece who's mischievous grin never left her face as she raised her brows to Theon. "I was just looking for you, Little Fawn. We're leaving now." He said, making Mary's heart drop. She didn't even hide her disinclination towards his words.

"Do we have to go?" She whined as he took her hand in his, and nodded his head firmly. "Let me say goodbye then." She sighed sadly, pulling away from his hand.

She turned to Theon and smiled at him, cupping his face in her hands and hugging him soon after. His hands hung on the lower arch back, hiding his face in her neck. He gave her a small kiss on her knuckle before she turned Robb. He stood, towering over her by a great many inches. Robb got to his knee and kissed her hand, before she swiped him up in a hug, wrapping her arms around his stomach. He sighed into the hug.

"I care very much for you both," She told them turning to Theon, who smiled. "Thank you for your kindnesses. And Robb," She turned back to the boy with Tully hair. "I'm sorry about Bran. Give him a kiss for me." She brushed his curly locks with her hands before rushing to her Uncle who's gaze was only on the floor when she mentioned the young lord.

Within the hour they set out to Casterly Rock. Mary found herself dreading the return of home, especially when her small Uncle with too big a mind, remained. She had not once even touched that leather book she loved so, feeling that if she read it without him here, she would be doing him a great dishonor, even though it was just the opposite. She stared out the window of the carriage, at the great white blanket of snow, until it was melted away, and the sun was all that remained. It made her feel hot in her winter clothes, so she had to remove her coat and roll up the skirt of her dress, which her mother said was not lady like, but which Jaime encouraged.

The heat was all she'd ever known, and she loved it, but now she wanted Winter for a change. She soon realized though, as they came to the sparkling gates of her home, that she was trapped in this sweltering heat of eternal Summer. And she would probably never escape it.


	2. The Hunt

Robert Baratheon took his now 14 name day old daughter in his arms, and pulled her into a loving embrace. His fur coat tickled her nose and she laughed into his large belly, as he lifted her up in the air, and spun her thrice around before placing her gently to the warm floor. It was her birthday today, Cersei and Robert had been planning a huge feast in her honor today, and of course, Renly demanded they throw her a ball. This was the day that most everyone in her home was able to collaborate and laugh together.

Her uncle Renly descended from the stairs just then, a handsome smile placed delicately on his lips as his blue eyes watched them carefully. He allowed them a few more precious moment together before he let out a couch, earning their attention.

"Are you ready for our hunt, brother?" Renly asked Robert, and her father let a small grunting noise come from the back of his throat, as to say yes, before he let Mary down and put his hands on her shoulders. Mary stared at her father, who's blue eyes flickered from his brother, to her. He smiled, his cheeks puffing out, making his eyes look like slits. He knelt down on one knee, and his scruffy eyebrows curled up as he sighed, staring into her eyes.

"You are the most beautiful girl in the entire world, you know that?" He told her lovingly, cupping her face in his large hands, rolling his thumbs just under her long lower lashes. She laughed at him, and shook his hands away and Renly's smile widened.

"You tell me all the time, father." She rolled her eyes. He released a hearty laugh, and took her under his arm, guiding her to the door so she could see him off. He left her there, ruffling her hair with his large hand, and she received a small kiss from her Uncle before the two Baratheon men mounted their horses and trotted off, laughing with one another about things Mary couldn't hear or understand.

"I'll bring you back the head of the biggest boar we find!" Her father exclaimed, directing his loud brag towards her, though he could not find the will to turn his horse around so he could face her.

"I'll be expecting it!" She yelled back, earning a small laugh from Renly, who waved his hand to her, an air kiss lining the glove now. She watched them ride away until she couldn't see them anymore, before running back inside, the heat proving to be too much for her.

"Godrey!" She yelled for the servant she liked best. He was a dark skinned man with bright blue eyes, a mute too. Mother told Mary that he was someone she shouldn't talk to too much because it was rude, but her father had told Mary that the boy was a traitor who's tongue was cut off as punishment for stealing bread from one of Casterly rocks markets. The man approached her and bowed. "Will you fetch me a chunk from the ice block?" She asked and he bowed once more before hastily retrieving the ice. She thanked him, and then ran up the stairs to get to her chambers, but soon crashed into the arms of her handsome uncle.

"Oh, Mary!" He exclaimed, catching her as she fumbled on her feet, the ice slipping in her arms. He smiled at her lovingly, as she then squeezed his mid section, where she just hit with all the force in her body. "Mary, don't run in the halls, please." He raised his light brows sternly and she nodded her head, crossing her heart in promise, though they both knew she was crossing her fingers. He smiled knowingly and gave her a kiss on the temple, allowing her to dash away again.

She ran into her room, past her younger siblings and slammed the door, hopping on her bed, sprawling out and placing the smaller peice of ice on her belly, and reaching for her notebook. Hours passed as Mary sat writing short stories of Ice Giants and strong heroes saving maidens, a talent she developed without Tyrion by her side over the past few weeks. She loved it, and couldn't wait for her favorite little lion man to return home so he could read it. She soon heard a knock on her door, a familiar voice sounding on the other side, making her snap the brown leather book hastily.

"Are you decent, Mary? May I come in?" The voice asked. The tender, yet raspy voice was immediately recognizable, belonging to that of her 'uncle' Ned. The past few weeks, Ned had stayed her family, seeing as he had been honored with the title as the hand of the king, and Mary loved his company. He had that cold edge that only the people of the North could ever really hold. He looked like his sons Robb and Jon, though in different ways. He was very handsome in her eyes.

"Yes, come in!" She replied with a smile. Ned approached her with somewhat of a serious face. "Is everything alright, uncle Eddard?" She asked hesitantly, his dull grey eyes looked into hers for a brief second before he faked a smile, his eyes shooting to the floor.

"Yes, my lady, thank you," He nodded to her, obviously lying, taking a step forward. "And happy name day." He gave her a curt nod with a strained smile. Mary curtsied in return.

"What can I do for you?" She asked, obviously feeling confused by her uncle's strangely morbid aura. He shook his head though, waving his hand slightly, looking up, even though he was still avoiding her eyes.

"Your mother calls for you," He said to her still looking just past her head. "You best hurry to her." He smiled with an exhausted look carved into his rugged features, and his head drooped a bit. She nodded and scampered out of her room. He followed out and shut the door behind him. She could feel his stare, but decided not to pay attention to it. She made her way to the dining hall, assuming that since it was breakfast time, that's where she would be, but found the room empty. She frowned in confusion and turned the other way, soon enough running into her elder brother.

"Where are you going, little sister?" He asked sparing her a glance, stopping in his tracks to pose his question.

"Nowhere, Jof," She said, rocking on her heels and he gave her an angry kind of pout. He would probably lecture her on his royal right to know, or something like, 'as future king I demand you tell me' and Mary decided that she wanted to avoid that speech, especially because it was her name day and she didn't want him to spoil it. "Well, mother called me to meet with her, but she wasn't in for breakfast." And his features softened as he became distracted.

"She's in the main hall," He told her. "She called me too." He said, offering his arm to his younger sister. She took it in hers and they walked down together, neither of them saying much to the other after that.

Upon entering the room they both felt something very strange and out of place. They peeked at one another before walking to their mother slowly, sitting at the fine oak wood table. When they sat, they also noticed they were the only children and that it was very grim, both Myrcella and Tommen were probably playing around in the beaches. Their mother didn't look at them, not even to offer a comforting smile. She had an arched brow and protruded lips like she was in thought of what to say. Soon she inhaled and told them the terrible news.

"Your father was impaled by a wild boar while hunting." She said with her chin raised, looking neither of them in the eyes still. Mary covered a gasping whimper with both her hands, while Joffrey's mouth parted slightly, a small inhalation of a shocked breath sounding from him. Mary felt her eyes stinging with tears already, and her mother could see how hard the girl was trying not to cry, and she wouldn't cry, not in front of her mother, and especially not Joffrey.

"Where is he?" Joffrey finally asked, his voice breaking ever so slightly.

"In our chambers," She said to him. "You may both see him soon if you wish. They've bandaged him up." She said with a motherly smile of reassurance. Mary nodded her head and swallowed a lump in her throat.

"May I be excused?" Mary asked, her voice trembling and her hand doing the same as she lowered it to the table. Her mother nodded, seeing the sorrow in her girl's eyes.

Mary ran off, tripping occasionally over her feet, but it was not enough to really slow her down. Her eyes felt like they were melting away and the tears stung her soft cheeks which were not adapted to the liquid sorrow that blurred her vision. A raspy cry emanated from her dry throat as she fell to her knees in the middle of a hallway, scraping her knees on the scratchy rug. Her head hung low as she sobbed and she soon began slapping herself.

"Do not cry! Stop crying!" She told herself. "Stop it, stop it, stop it." She whispered now and sooner or later she picked herself up again and went into her room, grabbing a short children's book Tyrion had given her when she first began to read with him, and continued on to her father's room. Upon entering, she saw Joffrey, grasping his father's hand and looking as if he were going to cry. Mary stood aside, watching them speak until her father finally took note of her.

"Little Fawn," He whispered through a smile. "Come here." He said. She sat opposite to Joffrey and took her father's free hand. SHe gave him a small smile, trying her hardest not to let the tears hanging onto her hazel eyes dribble off her chin again.

"Father, I brought you a story." She smiled fondly, showing it to him and he began to smile when Joffrey scoffed.

"He doesn't want to hear one of your stupid stories!" Joffrey exclaimed irritably, holding Robert's hand tighter, and Robert frowned at his heir.

"Boy," He spat. "You be kind to your sister. If I am to leave you as king when I die, you will treat her as more of a queen than your own mother." He finished off, Joffrey hanging his head now, but never leaving his father's touch. Though, Robert would have moved his hand away from Joffrey had he the strength to. "Read, Mary. Please." he said, still shooting Joffrey a disappointed look.

Mary choked back those tears once again as she released his hands to open the book.

"Once upon a time, in a land with grass as tall as trees, and trees as tall as mountains, there lived a brave stag," She began, and already her father smiled, closing his eyes a little, which made her even more scared, she couldn't lose him right now. She began to shake, and shut the book soon after that first line. "I can't read anymore." She began to sob. Robert pressed a hand to her shoulder, an unintentional reminder to her of how silly she was acting. She opened the book again, trying to restart shaking her head, when her father put his weak hand to her face, forcing her chin up.

"Little fawn," He smiled. "Too sweet for her own good." He whispered. Her uncle Ned soon came in, and Robert dismissed Joffrey and Mary both.

Her Uncle Renly sat out with them, Joffrey ignoring his Baratheon uncle and sister. Renly held Mary to his chest as she released everything inside of her, her salty tears dipping onto his shirt, dampening it slightly, which he didn't mind, he just continued to coo her.

"Uncle Ren?" She whimpered soon, her hushed voice just barely reaching his ears. He grunted in response, afraid his cool demeanor would vanish if he had to utter a word just then. "Why does father _have_ to die?" She asked. He exhaled, his hot breath hitting her soft auburn hair while she sobbed. He kissed her temple.

"Because, it's-" He sighed. "It's just how things are." He shrugged, unsure of how to answer.

And that was that. Soon Ned came out to talk to her Uncle and he had to go too, leaving Joffrey and Mary to themselves. Mary was sniffling into her knees. She liked crying with her Uncle who was a Baratheon. She felt safe in his arms, whereas with the Lannisters, she felt judged and weak. She could feel Joffrey's gaze on her, sure he was displaying distaste for her actions, but when she looked at him, she didn't see hate or disgust, just indifference.

"Stop crying," He said with a quiet, but stern voice. Mary did as told. She rubbed her eyes and stood up, the shadow of a crying girl on her flushed face. "I'll be needed in the hall soon. Mother has my Governess setting up for my lessons." Joffrey told her, towering over her. "Care to join me?" He asked, putting his arm up. She lifted herself off the floor and hunched herself over, folding her arms across her chest. She went on, not taking his arm like he had wanted her to. "He always liked you better." Joffrey said after her his voice quiet. She stopped and turned to look at him. He looked angry from that distance, but the closer he came, the more she saw the sadness hidden under his emerald eyes. He held his arm out again and she took it this time.

"He loves us all equally." She said after a long pause, and he just scoffed, rolling his eyes. "What?"

"Don't tell me you're _still_ so naive," He scowled. "Parents pick favorites, and children do too." He whispered now, almost fearfully so, like his father may hear him. Mary stared at Joffrey with her bushy brows furrowed.

"Still," She started, gently rubbing her brother's arm comfortingly. "Parents will always love their children." She echoed her uncle's words lovingly. Joffrey looked down at her and for a moment she thought he was going to hit her, still mad about her naive mindset, but he smiled instead. Not that sadistic smile he did when he had done something bad, but a kind, brotherly smile, and he kissed her cheek, which took her by surprise.

"I can't wait until you see just how bad people can be." He said quietly, but still loud enough for her to hear. She looked away now, up ahead, and pondered this sadly as he escorted her triumphantly. "Happy name day."

* * *

When her father died, Mary refused to cry. She went to his bedside later in the day and stayed with him all afternoon talking, then slowly fell asleep. She awoke soon after and found that he never would. She just looked at him for a while and curled up by the remaining warmth he still held in his large corpse. Her uncle Renly found her and led her away, taking her to her room, and she complied, making no effort to stay or go. She didn't leave her room for the rest of her day. The name day presents sat in the corner of her room, untouched, the feast cancelled.

She rarely left her room anymore, let alone her home, she grew to be paler than the residents of Winterfell. She never sought the company of anyone, though everyone tried to bring her back to the real world. No one mourned like her, no one missed him like she did, because she actually cared. Her mother, married to bring 2 kingdoms together, or more so to sit as queen, Renly only loving his brother because of blood, than leaving apparently as soon as he took her to her room. Her siblings cried a little, but the two were young and would cry at any death, then they just went on, happy and smiling and playing in the sun. It sickened Mary. And now Joffrey sat on the throne.

Mary couldn't stand the sight of him up there. Sure, she loved him, but Joffrey was not a ruler. Not a good one at least. Apparently, she wasn't the only one to think so, because Eddard Stark had been thrown in the dungeons for treason. She'd asked many times to visit him, but every time her mother would say no, telling Mary that Eddard was not a man to be trusted and that he questioned Joffrey's place on the throne and that his family held Uncle Jaime captive.

But Mary desperately wanted to meet with him. None of her other uncles were there to comfort her and he was all she had left. She sneaked out of her room and past the guards to find her Uncle Ned on the floor of his cell, a soft snore emanating from his dry lips. She took out the sack of water from her bag and woke him up. He gave her a surprised look, but took the water she was offering and swallowed it all down, then wiping his mouth.

"You shouldn't be here." He said, steadying his breath. Mary knelt down, leveling herself with him.

"Why don't you think Joffrey is the true heir." She questioned him. She'd heard the rumors, but they came from commoners. She needed to hear it from her uncle. He looked away from her with a sigh, but she snatched up his jaw in her soft hand. "Tell me." She demanded. He couldn't find the strength to move his head away but he didn't have the heart to tell her.

"He-He is not of age. Robert's younger brother Stannis should hold the throne until you brother-"

"Don't lie to me, uncle Eddard." She clenched her teeth and tightened his grip and in his steely grey eyes she saw sorrow and exhaust.

"Mary," He started. "I don't know if I can-"

"Eddard!" She yelled cutting him off for the second time, tears starting to swell in her eyes as she released him from her grip, so she could work at not letting a tear slip. "Tell me." She demanded now and he knew then that he had to tell her.

"For generations the Baratheon's children have had black hair, an blue eyes," He started after a moment, than pausing. "Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen all have blonde hair and green eyes." He said. She shuttered, knowing what he was saying.

"But uncle, I don't have black hair and blue eyes either." She furrowed her brows. He looked up at her and took a moment to observe her features, staring into her eyes.

"Your eyes are that of your grandfather Tywin, a greenish gold, called hazel." He smiled in a sort of relief. "And your hair is dark like Robert's but with some lightness, like your mother's. You_ are_ a Baratheon. I'm certain of it." He said comfortingly, putting a hand to her cheek.

"And Joffrey is not." She whispered, looking at her fingers. When he didn't say anything, her eyes flickered up. He shook his head and to her surprise she began to cry, curling up to the cold metal bars. He put a hand to her shoulder and she wept harder. The rumors were true. She had known, deep down, but this confirmation was so overwhelming. She was heartbroken. She wanted her father to hold her, she wanted her uncle Tyrion to tell her clever jokes, she wanted her grandpa Tywin to tell her about all his conquests, She wanted Renly to sing her songs like he used to, she wanted Stannis to help her with her grammar studies. She missed everyone, except for her blonde uncle and mother. She hated Cersei and Jaime right now. She despised them for the shame they brought her family. The humiliation they made her feel for even being associated with them, the absolute disrespect they put to the name of the crown and the iron throne and kings landing.

"You ought to go back home, Mary," He said gently and she shook her head. "Your family will worry."

"I can't face those monsters." She spat. "Any of 'em. They're all liars and pigs. I hate it here." She said, though she didn't entirely mean it. They both knew that.

"Mary." He moved closer to her, closing his hand over hers. He didn't know what else to say, and he didn't know entirely what he was trying to communicate, but to her it was strengthening. It was an assurance. She nodded her head, and stood.

"Goodbye, Uncle Ned," She said, looking down at him. "I'll send Sansa your love." She said more so out of courtesy. She never saw Sansa much, so her words in her eyes would prove to be lies, but Eddard looked so happy to have heard her say that, that she thought she might just do it.

She left him then, not turning around, not waiting for his answer. She just left. She had thought she saw some hooded figure out of the corner of her eye walk past her. But she decided to ignore it. She continued on, and sneaked back into her bedroom before her mother could try and talk to her again.

She undressed, and slipped on her night gown, crawling into her bed and curling up so her knees pressed against her chest. It took her a long while to even really feel sleepy, and when she was finally able to close her eyes and daze off, a knock sounded at her door. Annoyed, she dragged herself from her bed, and wrapped a sheet around herself. She stopped at the door and yawned.

"Who is it?" She asked rubbing her eyes. The sound of knocking continued, the person on the other side of the door, not answering. She furrowed her brows, and looked through the small crack of the wood. She saw a bright red dress with gold trimming, and knew it was her mother. She clenched her teeth and stood up straight. "Go away, mother." She said bitterly, hopping back on her bed.

Cersei opened the door anyways, a hesitant look on her face as she entered. Mary scowled and hid under her covers.

"Mary," Her mother said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed now. "Why won't you talk to me anymore?" Her lightly tanned hand reaching to touch her daughter's leg, but Mary squirmed away and sealed her eyes shut, trying to go back to sleep. Trying to avoid her mother and all the hateful reminders that trailed behind her like her golden hair did.

"Because I don't want to." She grudged. Cersei frowned deeper.

"What_ do_ you want?" She asked, her voice seeming so exhausted and broken. Cersei loved her children, and to see one so angry and sad all the time broke her heart. Mary rose up, looking her mother straight into her mothers gaze, a fire burning in the golden flecks of Mary's eyes.

"For you to leave," She clenched her teeth. "Or for me to fly far away." Her voice grew, then shrunk when she saw the look of hurt in her mother's grassy eyes. She stared into them a while longer before putting her head back down, and covering her face with the blanket. After a seemingly endless pause, the weight on the end of her bed lifted. She heard small footsteps fading away and the sound of the door shutting seemed to echo.

She felt a small pang of guilt in her stomach, but she couldn't feel bad for long. She just couldn't.

* * *

The next day, Mary felt the urge to walk the castle grounds like she used to. It felt odd being out there again, her sweat sticky, making her clothes cling to her body a bit awkwardly. She had clipped her hair back in hopes of it staying nice and dry, and so it wouldn't stick to the back of her neck. She walked in hopes of finding someone to talk to, but it seemed the only people around were her family, and she could do without them. But it seemed they weren't done with her.

"Mary?" Her brother's soft voice carried through the garden. Mary stopped in her tracks, listening to his footsteps, finding that there was another set of feet with him. She turned and saw the smug smile on Joffrey's thin tight lips, and the burnt scowl on Sandor Clegane's face as he listened to a master he so obviously disliked. Mary kept her eye on the Hound. "It's so good to see you out, dear sister!" He exclaimed almost mockingly, stopping a few inches in front of her. She looked down at her shoes and faked a small smile.

"Yes well, I thought it might be time to move on with my life," She said, looking into his eyes. His inbred Lannister emerald's that shone so brightly in the sun, like some sick reminder of his heritage. "It's very lovely to see you too, brother." She curtsied. He held his arm out and she took it, replacing Sandor Clegane's position by Joffrey's right side, though he still followed them closely when they walked.

"I heard you visited someone recently," He said after a moment of silence more. Mary tensed up, Sandor noticed and his brows furrowed further. "Who was it?" He asked knowingly. Mary swallowed a lump in her throat and raised her chin a little higher.

"Uncle Eddard," She told him truthfully. He faked a small gasp and stopped walking, forcing her and Sandor to halt as well.

"You _do_ know he is a traitor to your brother, and king, do you not?" He asked with such false surprise that it made Mary want to throw him some sarcasm back, just as Tyrion would, though she advised herself against it. She nodded her head. "And so, conspiring with a traitor, would make your actions well... treason. Wouldn't you agree? But I wouldn't want to throw my lovely little sister into the prison cells." He said, taking her chin between his fingers.

"Joff," She began with an exhalation. "I-I went down, to find out why he betrayed you. I was angry. I wasn't conspiring, I just- I needed to slap him before he was-" She stopped, taking a moment to let the word escape her lips. "Executed." She finally said feeling a little overwhelmed. Joffrey released her, not knowing whether he believed the story or not, but deciding to let her go.

"Well, we wouldn't want mother to find out, would we?" He finally said, releasing her arm and walking briskly away. She stayed still for a moment before Sandor came to her side.

"Best not provoke him, m'lady," He warned. "He's the type who'd sentence his own kin to death." He walked off then, not giving her time to respond. She pouted and sat on a bench nearby.

She had just begun to scold herself for leaving her house when she heard a new voice call for her. She turned, only to see the famous Petyr Baelish walking towards her with his classic 'Littlefinger' grin that never seemed genuine to her. She stood, and curtsied to him, and he returned the favor with a low bow, though keeping his greenish grey eyes glued on her. She sat back down and he took the spot just by her.

"My lady, you're looking well. You are a sight for sore eyes I might say." He flattered her, making her feel warm in the cheeks.

"Thank you lord Baelish. It's good to see you again." She said out of courtesy. She'd been so rude to so many people for so long that it actually felt nice to remove her true feelings from any picture. His grin widened as he shifted closer to her.

"I'm assuming you'll be attending the execution of our dear friend Ned?" He asked something hidden in his voice. She looked down and nodded her head. She felt his fingers on her chin and he pushed it up a little, making her look at him. He offered her a lopsided grin and tsked in false sympathy. "Such a shame. Making a pretty girl so sad all over again. She's lost so much already." He whispered gently. She looked at him with her big, sad, hazel eyes and he kissed her hand. His lips were soft and careful. Had she not known of his reputation, she would have found this actually very nice. She gave a nod of her head and put her hand on her lap, looking away from him.

'Thank you for your condolences, lord Baelish." She thanked him, almost sadly. He straightened his back.

"Please, call me Petyr." He placed a hand to his chest delicately.

"Thank you, Petyr." She smiled, turning to look at him. Petyr had always been kind, a bit suspicious in his actions at times, but overall, she thought very highly of the lord. "Will I be seeing you tomorrow?" She asked, and he tilted his head with furrowed brows. "For the execution." She urged on.

"Ah." He breathed, understanding now. "Sadly, I will not be able to attend his farewell party. Business and such. Small council meetings, too. With your Uncle Renly fleeing the kingdom, we must work double as hard. The lords of small council have been... lacking recently." He said, standing now. "But, don't worry. Lord Varys and I are quite capable." He smiled. "If you'd like to talk tomorrow though, you'll know where to find me. I'm always available to a friend."

"And a Lannister always pays their debts." She smiled, knowing that would be just what he wanted to hear. The only reason a man like him is kind is because he knows the kindness will be repaid. He gave her a nicer smile than before and bowed, turning on his heels and walking away.

She watched him leave and then felt once again very sad. Being left alone with her thoughts was not something she enjoyed, and soon, she'd have to watch another man she loved die, and though she knew Sansa was to bear the burden more, Mary couldn't bring herself to think of comforting the fire haired girl. A Lannister always pays her debts, but Sansa didn't have a debt. She offered no comfort to Mary when she needed it. She had apologized for Mary's loss once, so that's all Mary would do.

The Lannister in her veins felt eminent in the absence of her Baratheon family. She didn't know if that was good or bad.


End file.
